I Would Tell You I Love You, But
by Ace Loves You
Summary: Pre-Season Three. Destiel. AU. EMT!Cas. Hunter!Dean. Dean Winchester gets into a car accident and Castiel Novak is his first responder. M for later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

When you first meet someone in this situation, there is always that moment that you take to look them over.

With women, generally, he would look at their face, breasts, makeup, nails, shoes, then casually sweep them over once, and look them in the eyes. Make a snarky comment, and maybe they would consider you well enough to let you leave the back ledge of the ambulance. It didn't usually work, but it was always worth a try. A hunter has no business being taken care of and issuing statements to the police. The only saving grace was that they weren't actually on a hunt, so there was no weird shit that they could potentially tie them too.

Men were different. Face, ass, shoulders, look them over once, ass again, but eye contact meant confrontation. Snarky comments would make them all the more happy to let you sit your ass there all night.

So Dean made two mistakes.

First, he looked right in the eye of the dark haired man, despite the fact that there was a flashlight being shone into his retinas, to see a bright blue. The type of blue that people write sappy poems about.

"You showing me the light, Angel? Like something you see and want to take me back to those pearly white gates?"

Slightly startled at the light slur in his voice, he was determined to keep looking the EMT in the eye, only blinking when the smaller man narrowed his eyes. "Why would I like seeing a man with a severe concussion?" the man asked, his voice much rougher than Dean had remembered from only a few moments ago when the man was asking him questions.

"And how do you know that I have that?" His attempted smirk came out much feebler than he had anticipated, and he didn't realize how much his head hurt.

"Other than the fact that I have been doing this for seven years? You using that same pickup line three times in an hour might have helped me along." If Dean hadn't been focused on his heart beating in his head, he might have seen the budding smirk on the EMT.

"Where is Harding?" Dean asked suddenly. Pieces of the night started to leak through the flickering haze and clear in his head.

Blink. The blue and red flashes a few yards off cast strange shadows on the face of the EMT in front of him. Blink. Twisted pieces of silver, black, red, and blue metal were off in the distance, various uniforms walking up to, and then back away from the wreck. Blink. They were driving down the interstate. Blink. A car came into the driver's seat. Blink. Blink.

"Hey!" The EMT yelled, bright white filling his head again, always finding its way to his brain through the fissures in the haze…

Dean could feel the pressure on his neck and head, internal and external; something was holding him in place. Hands were on him, machines screaming somewhere around him.

"Stay with me, okay? What's your name? You wouldn't tell me earlier." The dark-haired man was looking at his eyes now, or at least somewhere in that vicinity.

"Tell me yours first," He sounded like he was making his dying wish….

"Castiel."

"Cas-"

* * *

Blink. White. Bright. Smelled too much like his house when he was younger. When Dad would leave for days at a time and Mom would just scrub the house down top to bottom. Sometimes, Dean would help, others, he would just sit with her, or go upstairs and stop Sammy from crying…

"Dean?"

His eyes flew right open. "Sammy?" He turned his head wildly, looking for where the voice had come from… Bad idea…

Sam was to his left, face red with tears and distraught. Though he looked as if he was about to laugh as he gently helped Dean rest his head back on the bed.

"Good job, only my brother would get in a seven car pileup on the way to get a beer after a hunt." Hunt? He didn't remember a hunt… "Lucky you, Harding refused to let you drive. That car would have slammed into you."

"Not lucky for Harding," Dean exhaled and let his head sink further into the pillow.

"I'm not worried about Harding right now, your brain isn't bleeding, but they are going to keep you for the next couple days to make sure nothing else happens. You broke your head as much as possible without actually needing surgery."

"Well, I guess I'm a walking rabbit's foot. Bringing us all the good luck." He kept his eyes close, trying to remember, but nothing came back. At least the fog wasn't as thick.

"Do you remember anything all?" Sam whispered, sympathetic.

"No." He lied, lifting his head a little. "Was someone else in here?"

"Not anyone other than a doctor or nurse, why? You expecting a date already?"

He laughed roughly, "Naw, don't worry about it. My head's a little jumbled."

"You aren't telling me anything I didn't already know," a wide grin spread across his brother's face. Normally, he would have smacked it off, but that grin was better than the red, puffy eyes, so Dean would take it.

"How long was I out, anyway?" He asked, eyes still closed, head burrowing into the pillow behind him.

"On and off, this time you might actually remember. It's about 6 am…"

* * *

When his eyes opened again, it was much brighter than it had been. Things weren't quite as sharp as they had been either; the throbbing in his head was diminished.

He looked around for Sam's mangy excuse for a head, to ask what the hell he had been given, but instead he was met with two blue, piercing eyes.

"Hello, Dean."

Blink. "Hey, you are… Cas?" He was struggling to remember where this man came from, but he knew he was familiar.

"Castiel," he said in a rough voice, eyes slightly narrowed as he looked over at the beeping machines connected to the man in the bed.

"Close enough." Cas walked up and looked at the chart at the end of his bed, head tilted slightly as he took in the chicken scratch on the page. "Don't like something you see, Angel?" The blue eyes flicked up to meet his own.

"Your brother went to go get lunch, I promised him I would get him if you woke up." Dean wasn't so sure why it bothered him as the man stood up quickly to leave, but it was a strong enough feeling for him to let out a small grunt.

The stranger looked back at him curiously, eyes glancing back over to the monitors as it to make sure the small noise wasn't out of pain. "Stay. Let the kid rest a little and eat. As big as he is, God knows he needs it."

Cas didn't say anything as he went over and sat down uncomfortably on the chair on the far side of the bed. Dean managed to push himself up to sit in a relatively respectable position; He wasn't just going to lay there while he talked to some random stranger.

The man watched him, silently, as Dean fidgeted to get comfortable in the sterilized sheets. When he did, he looked the man straight in the eye. "You are the EMT who sent me here?" He inquired.

"Yes," He didn't even blink. "As you are the man who passed out and proceeded to puke on my shoes."

"Oh, sorry."

"I've seen worse. I was much more worried about the possible bleeding into your brain to be all too miffed about it."

Dean smirked. "I've had worse."

Cas squinted and tiled his head, as if trying to read his mind. It was just a little creepy. "I believe you. I saw your X-rays. You have multiple healed injuries."

"Just proves I am a survivor, doesn't it?"

"Or that you are stupid."

Dean pursed his lips and looked up at the ceiling, then back into blue eyes. "Why are you even here?"

The man looked down at the white floor, "I am not sure," he murmured to the tiles, "I wanted to see how you were doing." Dean watched the man sneak a glance back to the monitors, then return his gaze to the floor.

"And how am I doing?" He asked quietly, relieved to see Cas flick his eyes back up to his own.

"It looks as if you will be okay," the man just couldn't hide the ghost of a smile as he looked back down at the floor.

"You are pretty okay looking yourself." Blue eyes rushed back up at him, squinting slightly, mouth open as if he was going to say something…

"Good morning, sleeping beauty. Brought you a burger, extra heart attack as a side, just how you like it." Sam came in, his hair just missing the doorframe as he plopped the tinfoil package down on his older brother's lap.

"Sorry. He had just woken up. I will leave you two to yourselves." Cas looked nervous, and glanced back at Dean one last time.

"It's no problem." Sam laughed, "I can't thank you enough for dealing with my brother and getting him to actually get treated."

"Of course," the dark-haired man nodded.

Dean watched him as he left the room quickly, wondering again what the doctors had given him, and wondering if he was high enough to excuse his comment. Regardless of dosage, Cas really was pretty damn okay.


	2. Guess That Is Life

I had a lot of trouble formatting this chapter. I don't know what happened. This is the third update to this chapter. Sorry. Anyway, this is the last expository chapter, and the story will get longer and be more involved as we move into the next chapter. Thank you to all who are reading!

* * *

As the days went by, the throbbing in his head and neck and the rest of his body slowly began to subside. Sam would sit by his bed, and look up various things, get him actual food, and just sit with his older brother and talk for hours. At night, he would flood over the tiny armchair in the small room and bob his head just slightly as he snored.

This left Dean a lot of time to lie in bed and think. He tried not to think about the smell of the room, but thought of the long nights when he would hear his mother's muffled sobs instead of his brother's monstrous snores. He tried to avoid thinking of his dad, of demons and fires and Sam's freaky powers.

Honestly, he would have left the moment he got to the stupid little room if not for Sam. He was calm, laughing, and relaxed. He knew that for the first time Dean was getting some actual help. Sam wouldn't be playing mother goose for the next few weeks worrying about his older brother if he agreed to a couple nights here, and he wasn't chasing some monster, wasn't spending sleepless nights researching griffins or werewolves. Dean had gotten hurt in a normal car accident, people got into those every day. It was almost as if they were normal for a couple days, and he knew Sam needed a little time to be normal.

He also tried not to think about the emergency responder that had come to the hospital just to check on him. He tried not to think of the hint of scruff around his jaw. He tried not to think of wide blue eyes and navy uniform that seemed just a little too tight to be in code…

Most of all he tried not to think that he was leaving in just under three hours and Cas hadn't come back since he had left that first day.

Dean leaned back deeper into the overly fluffed pillows. The room was a pale orange as the rising sun leaked onto the bare walls from behind half-closed curtains. He cleared his mind by watching the pinks and yellows appear and dissipate on their surface and match his breath to his younger brother's snores.

At some point he woke up to the soft footsteps of a pretty nurse. He wasn't awake enough to give her the usual look over, but he did notice the dark navy of her scrubs. "Glad to see you awake, Mr. Evans." Her soft blonde curls matched her voice. "Are you excited to be leaving today?" She gave him probably her nicest smile as she opened the curtains, at last dispelling the dulled sunrise on his wall.

"And leave you here all alone, sweetheart? I might just stay another week." Dean sat up in the bed quicker than he had in the last two days and he gasped slightly at the rush. Instantly, he felt small, cool hands on him.

"Mr. Evans?" She worried. He looked past her to see Sam; eyes wide open, and tense in his seat, looking ready to jump up if the need arose.

He put on his best smile, "Oh, I'm fine, blood just rushing to the wrong part of my body, babe." Her light voice giggled as he winked. He saw Sam close his eyes, sitting back in his seat. His smiled lightened as he looked from his baby brother to the girl's bright eyes now just inches from his face.

Dean froze for the smallest fraction of a second, a second that would have gotten him killed if he was hunting, at the sight. Bright blue eyes met Dean's green. If not for the specks of brown around the iris, they would be sappy poem ready…

As Dean moved back slowly, the nurse cautiously did the same. "So Bones, am I ready to spring this joint?" She pursed her lips, trying to catch the reference.

"Um," She still had her hamster wheel stuck on 'Bones', "Your attending doctor needs to sign off. He should be in within an hour."

"Great!" He could feel his eyes tighten.

"You look good, so I guess I won't be seeing you," even her curls looked dejected.

"Guess that's life isn't it?"

She gave a quick, half-hearted smile as she left the room.

"'Guess that's life?'" Sam jumped up. "Dean, you just let a very attractive and very into you nurse walk out of this room." Dean glared, not sure why exactly he was getting the Sam Winchester bitchface this early in the morning.

"Aren't we leaving? You get a few days of playing mother hen and we get to get the hell out of here and you not worry about me for the next few weeks?" Dean glared as Sam towered over him. He just wanted to leave and get some bacon.

"We might not be leaving yet," Sam hesitated at Dean's glare. "I don't think Harding had finished the case."

"What do you mean he hadn't finished? We heard about the case, came to see what we could do, and Harding was here and said it was done. Harding was a seasoned veteran, he wasn't the type to just leave a job half-assed," the monitors Dean was hooked up to were screaming as his heart rate increased.

"I know, Dean. But get this, the guy that started the pile up you were in? He had an abrupt aneurysm, just like the first cases." At this point nurses and doctors were coming into the room to check the monitors.

"Mr. Evans…?"

"Can I just get the fuck out of here?

* * *

It was ten by the time he was allowed to sit in the Impala and head back to the hotel that Sam had gotten for them sometime in the days prior. As they flew down the road, fingers flexed around the solid steering wheel of his baby, re-learning all her groves like a man did with his significant other after coming home from war. Sam looked pointedly out of the window.

"You are ridiculous," he finally said, exasperated as he watched Dean fondle the dashboard.

"I'm a lover, Sammy," Dean smirked as he glanced over to his little brother.

"You are an idiot," Sam sighed.

"Bitch."

"Jerk."

There was that little boy Sammy smile hiding on his lips.

"So, what is with this Egyptian god thing?" Dean asked after a few minutes of listening to the purr of his baby's engine.

"Her name is Sekhmet, goddess of destruction, who can cure and cause plagues. All the fun things." Sam sat there flipping through his pages of notes.

"Awesome," Dean sighed. "Any way to kill her?"

"It says here that she can't die, but that she was defeated once by pouring 7,000 jugs of beer stained red, and getting her to drink thinking that it was blood. She fell asleep for days, and upon awaking, her blood thirst was quenched."

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

"I'll find something else," Sam said quickly, pulling out his phone.

"Yeah, you do that, Sammy. Although, I just might enjoy swimming in a pool of beer."

"Is that a metaphor?" Sam inquired, half listening for an answer.

"Sure."

"We might need to pull out the CDC ID's," Sam thought, trying to picture them in his head. But they don't say Evans, and we already have your name here."

"My FBI one says Evans."

"But mine doesn't and at the hospital I said we were brothers," Sam pursed his lips.

"Well, Sammy. I guess that it's time for you to become a progressive young man and take your wife's name," Dean looked over, a huge, smug smile spreading across his face.

"I hate you."

"Naw. No you don't."

"I would hit you, but I don't think they would appreciate you back at the hospital for another accident."

Dean just laughed as they pulled into the shitty motel that Sam had found.

* * *

Most of their afternoon was spent sitting in their small, Hawaiian floral motel room. Despite the faded orange and blues, bugs, and lack of hot water, Dean was still more comfortable here than at the hospital room. Drinking a beer with his feet up on the small table in the kitchenette, he casually looked through his phone for information on the Egyptian God and occasionally, just as casually, changing tabs to the _Busty Asian Beauties _website.

Meanwhile, Sam was alternating between studiously scrawling notes onto the notebook on his lap and looking up at his laptop.

Dean blithely looked up from a particularly busty beauty to Sam as he heard the sound of plastic colliding as a laptop slammed shut. "Hmmm?"

"I'm going to the library."

"You don't have to get all huffy about it, Hermione."

"Very funny. I just want this job done," Sam scoffed as he grabbed the keys to the Impala. "I'll be back in a few hours."

"Bring me a burger on the way home!" Dean yelled as Sam walked out the door.

As he heard the click of the lock, Dean tossed the phone down and wandered over to the other side of the room where two blue and orange beds were, and threw himself down on the farthest one. He let his head sink deep into the pillow; luckily this one didn't smell of the piss that many others he had laid his head on had. Hopefully, he might be able to get some sleep since that hospital bed had done nothing for him except create a spot in his back that no matter how much he moved or stretched he could not seem to pop.

Dean had almost lost consciousness as he heard a knock on the door. "Damnit, Sam," he groaned as he got up to get it. He was about to yell as he opened the door, but instead of his overgrown baby brother, Dean's eyes met blue ones. The type of blue that people write songs about. Blue eyes and dark, messy hair, and an increased amount of stubble.

"Hello, Dean."


	3. Virgins on a Beach

Sorry it took so long to update. Marching Band and Midterms just ended, so the next one should be quicker.

* * *

"Hello, Dean."

Dean just blinked. With the roughness of the stranger's voice, Dean might have guessed he was a chain smoker if he didn't know the man's profession, and that he smelled vanilla and mint off the man instead of ash and tar. The low sun was right behind his head, creating a halo around his dark, messy hair. The only thing brighter than the sun was his eyes, which were half obscured as he was squinting with his head slightly tilted to the right. In contrast to the light, he had deep bags under his eyes, suggesting he hadn't slept much in the past days. Dean's lips parted slightly as he looked back into the blue, the man's eyes now wider with a grim smile.

"I've had a couple long shifts," Cas said as he followed Dean's line of vision. "May I come in?"

"Uh, yeah." Dean moved out of the doorway and into the room, pausing for a moment before he decided to sit at the small kitchen table. He watched as Cas carefully stepped inside and hesitated next to the table, looking as if he didn't know what he was to do next. "Are you going to shut the door?" Dean was getting slowly annoyed at the man. Cas squinted his eyes again as he looked back questioningly at the door.

"Oh, yes." He said as he carefully turned the handle and shut the door, making the least amount of noise possible. Dean just looked at him, dumbfounded as he returned back to hovering over the table, again, as if unsure of how to proceed.

"Are you going to sit?" Dean could hear some exasperation in his own voice. Cas carefully sat down. Dean took a moment to just stare at the man at the table. "Are you okay?"

"Sorry, I'm not really sure how to do this," he answered as he looked around the room.

"Do what?"

"Talk to people." At this, Cas locked his eyes onto Dean's.

"Jesus, aren't you an EMT? Doesn't that involve talking to people?"

"No."

"No? No what?" Cas still hadn't taken his eyes off Dean. Uncomfortable, Dean looked away and around the room, watching the room get darker and darker as the autumn sun set. He would need to turn the light room on eventually. He finally looked back at Cas who seemed to be waiting for his gaze to return before he answered the question. The increasing amount of shadows made the bags under his eyes darker and darker, and casted his image on the opposite wall.

"I'm a paramedic."

"Okay, that still doesn't answer my question." Dean was just getting increasingly frustrated.

"You asked if I was an EMT. I was specifying that I am a paramedic."

"Doesn't being a paramedic or whatever still involve talking to people?" Was this guy for real?

"That was different. I work well under pressure. Asking questions, analyzing medical needs, statistics, data. It makes sense. People react to trauma in numerous ways, but once you figure out their path, they are predictable."

"Was I predictable?" He asked sarcastically as he looked down at the tight jeans that the man across from him was wearing. They were light, faded, and worn. However, the grey T-shirt he was wearing looked new, and not quite as tight as his pants, yet fitted to his obviously athletic body.

"Not predictable, but practiced," Cas, again, silently followed his gaze. "I started running a little more than a year ago. And swimming. I haven't had the opportunity to buy many new clothes. I didn't realize I was gaining muscle until a co-worker pointed out that my uniform was distracting a few women at a scene."

Slightly unprepared for the amount of words Cas had just strung together, unprompted, Dean quickly got up to flick the little light switch on, dispelling the increasing amount of shadows in the room fashioned by the low sun. The second Cas on the wall had vanished, or at least left his view.

Dean turned around to see Cas standing again, still watching him. Seeing Dean's face, he quickly sat back down. "What do you mean, practiced?" He asked, cautiously now, sitting back down across from the strange man that he had for some reason let into the room.

"Obviously you had been in many accidents, whether car accidents or not I don't know. You took your injuries well, ignoring symptoms that most people would have been crying over. You are strong. You are sarcastic and cynical and flirty because you know most people will just let you go at that point. You are sure of yourself and yet not at all sure of yourself at the same time. You might be military, but you don't have the discipline or respect for authority. I am just not sure about you, Dean Evans." Blue eyes were trying to find some window to his soul, but he wasn't having that today.

"I'm FBI, on a case." He retorted.

"I don't believe you," Cas said quietly.

"Here," he said as the handed his badge to the man with a smug look, "believe me now?"

Cas turned it over in his hands, feeling every atom with his fingers. Dean supposed those fingers had to be thorough, after dealing with so many intricate medical procedures. "I suppose," he handed it back carefully. "And what are you investigating?"

"A string of mysterious aneurysms, like the one that caused the car accident I was in."

Cas looked at the freckled man intently, his eyes squinting up again. "What does the FBI want with a string of aneurysms? How could that be a crime?"

Dean gave a harsh laugh, "I don't know, I'm not really going to question the big man upstairs though, if you know what I mean."

The other man hesitated and Dean watched his lips part as if he was going to say something, but before he could let the words leave his tongue, Sam rushed into the small room, flooding it with the florescent lights from the streetlights outside. Cas looked behind him only slightly unnerved by the sudden entrance while Dean almost fell out of his seat.

Sam stopped and looked at Cas curiously.

"Are you his partner?" Cas asked Sam levelly.

"His what?"

"His partner, or are you actually brothers? Or both?"

"What? No! We don't swing that way!" Dean yelled out.

Sam just grinned as Cas's lips popped into a little 'oh' of surprise before settling into a grin of his own. Even with only moving his mouth slightly, you could see the slight smile at the corners of his eyes.

"FBI partners, Dean." Cas's smile got a fraction larger.

"Yeah, we are," Sam interjected, still smug and holding out his badge for Cas to see.

"And you have different last names?" Cas's eyes squinted as he handed back the card.

"Sammy here is ladies' man; Said he would take his wife's name and he somehow ended up with a hot chick."

"Oh, congratulations."

"Thank you."

"I was just telling Cas here about our investigation."

"Were you?" Sam said, looking at Cas who at this point had turned his eyes back to Dean. "So, do you know anything strange about them? Any connections or other injuries to the body?"

"No," said Cas simply, still looking at Dean. His eyes were careful to keep away from the direct line of blue from the stranger.

"Any idea how many there have been?" Sam probed, trying to catch his full attention. Dean watched subtly as Cas scrunched his eyes again as he tried to think numbers over in his head. "Cas?" Sam asked again after a minute.

"I'm not exactly sure," he breathed slowly as he turned back to Sam. "I have myself only responded to a couple, but from colleagues I know of over twenty possible ones. There may be more, but that is all I know of personally."

"Awesome, that is a lot of help. Anything else you can think of?"

"Not presently" he said quietly, turning back to Dean. "I should be leaving, you two seem like you have much to do," He moved to get up.

Dean copied him in the motion, "I'll walk you to your car," he said quickly, eyes flicking over to Sam who held a strange expression on his face that he couldn't determine.

"Oh, I didn't drive. I walked." Cas said dispassionately, moving for the door.

"What do you mean you walked?"

"I mean that I left my house this morning, walked to work, and then walked to your front door." Dean just stared at him as if all the words were foreign to him.

After a moment, he broke his temporary shock, "Then let me drive you home, it's almost dark."

"I'm not afraid of the dark." Cas said quietly.

"Well, you are damn well not walking home in it. Go get in the Impala." Cas stared at him blankly, which Dean noticed was about eighty six percent of his expressions, but walked out the door and headed in the direction of the car.

"He is like a damn toddler," Dean muttered as he pulled his keys out of the pocket of the leather jacket he had never taken off. "I'll be right back, Sam." He looked over at his younger brother to see a small smirk on his face. "What is that look for?" Sam just smiled.

"Bitch," He called out as he walked through the doorway.

"Jerk" he heard Sam call back as he shut the door behind him.

Dean blinked as the setting sun temporarily blinded his vision. The sky was an impossible mess of orange and pink and yellow. The stereotypical sunset that you find over a painting of a beach. The type of sunset that virgins imagine in the background as they lose it on the beach.

As he reached the car, the sun finally fell below the horizon dispelling the imagery. With one last blink, he could see clearly enough to see Cas staring at the door handle as if he didn't know what to do with it. Sighing, Dean opened the driver's door and sat in the car, waiting for the other man to figure it out. "Where the fuck do you come from," Dean muttered to himself as Cas shot him one last puppy dog look before finally reaching out and opening the door.

"I come from my Mother, and my Father." He said blankly.

"Don't we all?" Dean asked rhetorically and he started his baby's engine. "How did you know where I was staying, anyway?"

"I heard Sam telling a nurse so that they knew where you were in case there were complications." Dean just groaned. Sam should know better than giving out their address. They would have to change hotels.

"What?" Cas inquired.

Dean ignored him, looking over at the strange man. "And you just wrote down the address of a random guy, and then just strolled down the highway to his hotel room?"

"I memorized it."

"What?"

"I memorized the address. I have a very good memory." Dean just stared at him.

"What?" Cas asked, mimicking the tone Dean had just taken.

After a moment of continued starting, Dean just broke out into laughter. The guy had just tried to be funny, and while on most people it would be stupid, the mockery on Cas's lips was just too damn hilarious.

A smile broke out on dark haired man's face. His lips parted to reveal perfect, straight, white teeth that were only outshined by the corner of Cas's mouth that smiled just a little higher than the other.

"You know, you are a weird dude, Cas." Dean turned back to the road, a smile of his own now displayed across his lips.

"So I've been told." He said seriously, smile gone.

"Aww, I didn't mean it in a bad way. Everyone is a little messed up, a little bit of a freak." Dean's smile grew, and looked over to see Cas staring at him intently.

"And you? Are you a freak too?"

His smile fell as he looked back at the road flying beneath him. "I'm a lot of things, Cas."

The car was silent for a few minutes aside from the purr of the engine until Dean saw a small, sad smile cross Cas's face. "Aren't we all?" He asked quietly, not wanting to offend Dean again.

"Am I even going the right way?" Dean asked after another moment, his words dispelling the former tension.

"Uh, no." Cas said cautiously, looking out the window. You missed the turn about eight miles ago.

"Damnit," Dean muttered under his breath, and sighed as he heard a small apology from the passenger's seat. "It's fine, Cas, just tell me where I need to go."

"Turn around when you can and go straight back three exits." Dean nodded and began to turn around in the middle of the road until Cas frantically grabbed the steering wheel, turning the car straight again.

"Jesus, Cas! What the fuck was that?"

"You can't turn around in the middle of the road. It's illegal," Cas said, eyes wide and face flushed. How could eyes be so wide and blue and innocent with a voice so deep? Nothing about this man made sense.

"I'm a damn agent, I know what's illegal," He said harshly, moving to turn around again on the empty road.

"I don't want you to get into another accident." His wide eyes just stared into his soul.

"Okay, Cas," he said softly.

* * *

Eventually, they found their way to the small neighborhood where Cas lived, a mixture of condos and duplexes and townhouses. He pulled up in the parking space he was directed, next to a little silver Volvo, he just gave Cas a mocking look of disappointment. "Its a very safe car," he replied, unapologetic.

Dean just scoffed, but still smiled at the other man. There was an awkward pause as Dean waited for his passenger to get out of the car. Cas looked at him, expectantly.

"What?" Dean asked, confused.

"Would you like to come in?" Cas asked, quietly, staring at Dean with wide eyes.

"In your house?"

"No, in my treehouse." He looked at the passenger curiously; it was strange to hear sarcasm so easily flow off his lips, especially so dry.

He took a moment to consider the offer."Do you have beer?" he asked with a smile.

"Only light." Cas said, returning the smile, with a hint of something else at the corner of his squinting blue eyes.

"I guess that will do," Dean replied with a laugh, throwing open the door. He watched as whatever other expression was buried with his face was replaced by a full smile. Cas followed his driver's motion and threw open the door, almost hitting his car, which made Dean just laugh harder as he slid easily out of the car.

The slightly taller man was able to get to the other side of the car quick enough to watch Cas struggle his way awkwardly out of the car. At this, Dean doubled over with laughter, and came up with a huge grin on his face to squinting blue eyes inches away from his own green. His face was illuminated by the streetlight above them, and Dean could watch his eyes dilate and dissipate depending on which way he moved his head, controlling the amount of light that was blocked by his shadow.

"Are we going to go inside?" Dean asked, watching the corner of his lips carefully.

"Oh," he paused, "yeah, of course." He hesitated, almost as if he was waiting for Dean to lead him, but quickly realized that Dean would have no idea where he lived. Cas moved past Dean, and walked towards the tall building.

Dean followed him silently, laughing to himself as Cas would occasionally look back quickly as if to see if Dean was still there. At the door of his townhouse, he fumbled for his keys, only to drop them in the rose bushes that lined the bottom of his window. He stuck his hand into the thorny bushes, pulling it out with keys in hand and little red slices in his skin. The red marks got bigger as he put the key into the door and unlocked it, pushing open the grey and walking into the blackness of his house. Dean felt up the wall to find the little light switch, and the room exploded with light. Cas flipped around fast enough for Dean to watch the blue of his iris engulf the small black pupil.

"Sorry," Dean smiled.

After a moment, Cas relaxed and returned the smile. "I'll be right back. Feel free to sit." He motioned up the few stairs into the room temporarily concealed by a wall. Cas kicked off his shoes on a light grey mat and turned to leave, and Dean imitated the motion and followed him up the miniature foray and turned into what he assumed to be the living room.

For what he could see, the entire house was white, light grey, and light blue. High, white walls extended the entire height of the house, and he watched as Cas emerged from the stairs and walked along the balcony to what seemed to be an open kitchen on the second floor. White carpet, grey furniture, and blue accents covered the man's home. Pristine and neat, the only thing that fell out of the color pallet was the numerous books, the only things in the house that looked as if they had ever actually been used, in white book shelves that lined the back wall of the living room, and dining room straight out from the stairs.

"It doesn't make much sense for the kitchen and dining room to be on separate floors, but I don't usually have company, so it is irrelevant."

Dean was startled by the voice, and looked around a moment before looking up to see Cas standing in the hallways upstairs, the light above him illuminating his face, two beers in his hand. He watched Cas disappear down the steps, and return through an archway to his left, holding out the bottle with a hand now wrapped in a white bandage. "You really can sit," he insisted, carefully sitting on the suede looking grey couch, opening his beer and throwing the top onto the glass coffee table. Dean followed in suit, looking at the couch and hesitating afraid that he might stain the sterile surface in someway. However, feeling Cas's eyes staring at him, he sat down and quickly opened the bottle and took a drink, avoiding blue eyes.

Instead, he continued his examination of the room around him. The books on the shelves were primarily old, worn, religious texts, and modern medical journals and textbooks. Amidst these were books with titles in languages he couldn't read, historical anthologies, and literary collections. There were a lack of photos on the walls, no allusion to a family, but instead he noticed a large, wrought iron, decorative cross behind him the dining room. There was a fireplace, which appeared to be gas, at the end of the L shaped couch, and across the room was a large, flatscreen television mounted on the wall.

"You a football fan?" Dean asked, motioning his head in the direction of the screen.

"No," he replied, following Dean's gesture. "A coworker told me it was strange to not have one, so I purchased one. I don't watch much." Cas looked back at Dean, searching his eyes for a confirmation that it was acceptable to have such a thing in his home.

"Do you watch anything?"

"The news, C-span. They also have these screens of things like fish and waterfalls that have relaxing music that I will occasionally put on as I read. Again, he looked to Dean for some feedback.

Dean could think of nothing other than Cas reading a serious medical journal with some violins in the background as nemo floated across the screen and just laughed. Cas's face became serious. "Is that strange?"

"Out of all the things you do, its not the strangest," he continued laughing as he took another sip of beer. Cas looked down at his bottle as he considered this.

"Sorry." He said quietly.

"Don't be sorry," Dean laughed, slapping Cas on the back lightly, causing him to spill a tiny bit of beer onto his jeans.

"How is your hand, by the way?" Dean asked as he got up and looked around for the remote to the television, although Cas might have just not bought one.

"It's fine, I just cleaned it. The bandage makes it look a lot worse than it was. There was just no point in putting multiple little ones on." His eyes followed Dean around the room. "What are you looking for?"

"The remote," Dean said amidst his search.

"Oh."

"Oh, what?" Dean paused and turned back around.

"Oh, you are looking for the remote," Cas's eyes were wide with confusion.

"Do you have one?" He asked as he resumed looking in a white basket next to the fireplace.

"Yes."

Dean turned back to Cas, jumping slightly as he met bright blue eyes. Despite being slightly shorter, the man's stature made Dean step an insignificant step back in intimidation.

"Would you like me to get it for you?" He asked, his voice slipping deeper in his confusion, probably wondering why this man that had puked on his shoes in the days previous was now going through his things.

"Uh, yeah."

"Why?" Cas's eyes squinted, and again he titled his head just slightly to the left, his lips parting slightly as in preparation…

"I thought we could watch a movie. I guess you wouldn't have seen many. A classic? I dunno, I don't make many new friends…" He stopped as he caught his slip in diction. He didn't make friends. Cas wasn't his friend. Friends died. Friends left.

For all that Cas was staring at him, he didn't realize Dean's sudden stop. Cas himself, was probably caught on the word friend. Dean guessed he didn't have much, if any.

"Okay, I can get it," and he disappeared up the stairs again and into one of the doors parallel to the railing.

Dean sat back on the couch and closed his eyes, trying to de-familiarize himself with the room. After a few minutes, he smelled vanilla and mint as Cas sat down next to him, only just too close, and felt the remote fall into his lap.

He opened his eyes to see two more beers sitting on the glass table in front of him, and looked up at Cas.

"I figured that if we were going to watch a movie, that you would need more than one to hold you over."

"Thanks," he smiled as he flipped the television on. "Am I allowed to order a movie? It's a great one."

Cas smiled and looked down, the right corner of his mouth creeping up just slightly higher than the other.

They both settled in as Dean found The Great Escape and turned it on, going through all three beers over the course of the movie. Cas seemed mesmerized by it, and sat up straight on the edge of the couch. Occasionally, Dean would look over to briefly watch the light of the screen flicker across Cas's face, his eyes wide as if trying to absorb all he could from the screen.

Eventually, the movie ended and Cas pleaded for another, and Dean threw on the first Star Trek movie. He settled back comfortably, and fell in and out of sleep, eventually falling into sleep watching the lights play games with the dark bags under Cas's eyes.

* * *

At some point, Dean woke up in warm, strong arms. His eyes opened lazily to grey cotton. "What-" he started before a low voice laugh softly. He looked out to see the television still displaying images of Spock and Kirk below him, and he could see the entire living room from the upstairs balcony.

"I'm not a child," his anger lost in his sleepy voice.

"And I'm not your mother," the voice laughed again.

"No, you are an angel."

"And you are tired."

The warm arms disappeared, replaced by soft sheets, and the voice hushed him to sleep again.

* * *

Dean woke up in dark blue sheets, to white walls tinted orange by the rising sun through the window to his left. He blinked, unsure of how he got there, or even where 'there' was.

He walked out of the small room to see the Cas's white house completely tye-dyed by the rising sun by the huge windows across from him that he hadn't noticed earlier. Above the living room, he peered down and noticed the mess of beer bottles he had left had already been cleaned up.

As he was about to walk down the stairs, he noticed another door open, and saw a large room, which he assumed to belong to Cas, and a small bump in grey sheets of a large bed.

Quietly, he continued down the stairs, and looked around the house to find a pen and paper to write his number down. He eventually located the objects in a large office off of the dining room, the only room which looked to be actually lived in, with books and pens and paper scattered across a large L shaped desk and the floor. He quickly wrote his number and name on the pad, and left it on the coffee table, grabbed his shoes, and closed the door to the house as silently as he could managed before he slipped into the Impala and drove back to the motel.


End file.
